Shaky Leaf Trees

Love War and Art

2010-11-23T21:26:00.000-08:00

I’m home from a conference on how to teach students to read and write… more. Yesterday I listened as a woman read picture books to a room of adults. She adjusted her accent to that of a small town Texas woman and often looked up to observe non-verbal responses. Her intentions were to inspire writing ideas within us, but instead I was overcome by two images from her books. The first was the open desert; the second was the open prairie. Places where the heavens overcome the earth.

At one point we discussed vampire novels and the question—why are they so popular? It sparked my interest for a few reasons, one being that I have a student who does her best to regularly look like a vampire. She has expressed her desire to be a vampire. Recently Felix and I listened to a pastor talk about this same question… he had been overwhelmed with the amount of violence and sex in entertainment and went to sleep burdened about it. All night the Lord gave him visions and spoke over and over the phrase “It’s all about love; it’s all about war.” There is a need for both. Vampires are the world’s merging of the two. Throw immortal life in there, and of course it sells.

My conference group came to the same thought. Eventually the discussion led into the question—how do you get an uninterested non-reader hooked on reading? The conclusion I heard? Find a book with sex and violence and place it in their hands. I asked how the parents respond to this. The advice I received was to give the parents a disclaimer—dear parents, my intention is that through this book your child will learn to recognize such vital writing elements as theme, character, and plot development, so please overlook chapter 5, as it is quite sensual. The teacher then said—we rarely have a parent who minds, except for that one over-religious mother.

----
Places where the heavens overcome the earth… I swell with a desire to go there, to see, to look up for awhile, to remember how the land grows so thin, scared to look up. If it realized all that hovered above, it might crumble and blow away. It might find some higher purpose for the soul's pull towards love and war.

I am going to paint some heavy skies, and I hope to capture what I feel. I just found out I'll be participating in Ft. Worth's art festival in April. If you feel moved to encourage me along the way, I need it. Waco's art fest last September was a great weekend. Here are some paintings from that...

New Art and Other Frontiers

2010-06-29T12:50:00.000-07:00

This is a new painting with audio of my dear husband speaking for the large and small cabbages. He is so funny!

On the home front, Felix and I moved to Waco, TX two months ago. Waco is home of Baylor University, the Dr. Pepper museum, the Texas Ranger Hall of Fame, 90% of the world's Snickers bars, and the freak legend of David Koresh. To quote Matt Graham, "Waco is an armpit, but it's like the armpit of someone you really like." We've been finding some places we really like, such as Homestead Heritage, Antioch church, Cameron Park's running trails (minus the fleas), and the Dancing Bear. We are happy to be here and so grateful for jobs! Felix is working as a city planner, and right now he's researching about how agricultural zones can prevent city sprawl and create sustainability for a city. Is that interesting or what!? In August I'll be teaching English for 6th and 11th graders at a local charter school, so I've been going to the library and briefing up on all those good books they get to read throughout the year.

2010-01-04T10:38:00.000-08:00

Found this when browsing through Portland Studios, one of my favorite places to visit on the web, and it reminded me I've been meaning to read something by Neil Postman, an author who comes on good recommendation from a pastor of mine. If you can't read what it says, here you go:

"At some point it becomes far from asinine to speak of the god of Technology- in the sense that people believe technology works, that they rely on it, that it makes promises, that they are bereft when denied access to it, that they are delighted when they are in its presence, that for most people it works in mysterious ways, that they condemn people who speak against it, that they stand in awe of it, and that, in the born-again mode, they will alter their lifestyles, their schedules, their habits, and their relationships to accommodate it. If this be not a form of religious belief, what is?" - Neil Postman

Of course, I post this after spending a month staying up late in hotel rooms watching cable, playing hours of Mario Cart at my parents' house, daily watching movies on my laptop when at home, and going to see all the new hits at the Cinemark. If Felix and I had Internet or t.v. at our house, we realize that nothing would get done and then we'd cuss because nothing got done! And Felix'd cuss again, because he could have burned more calories sleeping than watching t.v.

Today is Sunday.

2009-10-25T19:25:00.000-07:00

It was an early Sunday morning, and the weekend's work got done yesterday. The washing, drying, putting away, dusting, sweeping, and mopping... all done. A free day was arriving in ease, and I woke this morning at 6:30 to see it like a gift slowly unwrapping.

The later morning was reserved for pumpkin waffles, but the morning's first business was to make coffee, head to the living room, open the windows, and be still. I sat by the window and watched dark blue clouds slide through the light blue dawn. I heard leaves flutter, and the wind passed through the windows, reaching my uncovered feet. It all made my spirit feel whole, with nothing lacking. I believed in the Lord, and I felt the belief.

There are occasions like this morning when my self should be silent and listen for the extraordinary. I hear it when close friends sing along to the same song. I heard it when we left our wedding, and I cried from the overwhelming sense of being loved by friends and especially by family. I heard it this past week when I woke in the night to hear Felix praying over me, that I be blessed with new songs.

I want that blessing. I am ready for new songs again, and for new art. Felix's encouragement is life-giving. While the idea of marriage always seemed scary, the idea of sharing life with Felix came so natural. I love our bike rides and grocery store dates. I love feeling the Spirit move when we pray. Last week we made a fire in the chimenea on our front porch. We sat on therma rests, ate the last piece of yummy carrot cake from our wedding, and watched "The Last Mimsy" on my laptop. Urban camping as Felix called it. We even saw rats running across the power lines! And after the movie we stayed there talking of how natural it feels to be married to eachother and how odd that we will never again wonder, "Am I going to get married someday?"

I've had thoughts of falling snow lately. I'm not sure why, except the lovely weather here makes me think of things I love. Last night I tried explaining to Felix the way I feel about falling snow-- the insulating, clean silence it brings. There is something restorative about it. Sundays like this come to me like falling snow.

---
"There was a white horse on a quiet winter morning when snow covered the streets gently and was not deep, and the sky was swept with vibrant stars, except in the east, where dawn was beginning in a light blue flood..."
-Winter's Tale by Mark Helprin

My Winner Winner Chicken Dinner

2009-06-09T00:06:00.001-07:00

As of last week I am officially engaged to marry my dear friend, Felix Landry. Many of you probably did not know I was dating someone, and I realize that news of engagement may come as quite a surprise! Maybe your response is “How quick!” or “How exciting!” or “How quick and exciting!” Either way, I desire that you all feel included, because you all have been special characters in my life.

Felix and I met during my sophomore year of college through our mutual friend, Justin. Felix and Justin were on the same YoungLife team, and Justin and I did a lot of music stuff together. Anytime Justin sang, Felix and I were usually around to listen. From time to time we ran into each other and enjoyed our conversations, but dating never occurred to us.

The last time I saw Felix was at my farewell party before I moved to Colorado in 2006, and after I moved we lost touch. When I moved back to College Station I had no idea he still lived here. This past March (2009) I ran into our mutual friend, Tim, who told me Felix was in graduate school at A&M. The next week Felix invited me to dinner with him and his friends. After dinner I joined him at his home church where I experienced the warmth of his community of believers here in the Brazos Valley. A window into a lovely world opened up to me that evening.

It turns out that the Lord allowed us notice one another. Felix continued asking me to spend time with him. Within a couple of weeks we were dating, and shortly after that he said he intended to marry me. We’ve received encouragement from our friends and families, and we especially feel the Lord giving us freedom and peace to choose life together.

I am delighted. I do not overlook my dear Lord’s kindness-- it moves me deeply. Felix is yet another extension of the Lord’s kindness to me through the years. I praise the Lord, for He is consistently a good, good shepherd! His love is my foundation through all seasons. He is our destination and our true inheritance, and I praise Him.

Here are a few things you may be interested to know about Felix:
He’s named after his grandpa. He’s bike friendly, an Urban Planning student finishing graduate school and working for the city. He’s a rock-climber, so strong he could "face off with the devil” (as my dad said) and can grow a mean beard when in the mood. He’s a tea-drinking reader, always impressing me with his smarts. He's thoughtful and never seems to speak beyond what he believes to be true. He is comfortable and bent toward simplicity. He likes fishing with his dad and likes his closest people close. Although well traveled, he’d be happy to live in College Station for the rest of his life. A few have said he is the male version of myself. This may be somewhat true, except he’s much more decisive and bold than I am. He has a peculiar love for the desert and for the Houston Astros. Many things set his thoughts on the Lord. I love the way He interacts with our dear Lord and with the people in his life. I am excited to know him more and more. He’s my new favorite color. As Kevin says, Felix is my winner-winner chicken dinner.

Lift up your eyes

2008-12-18T16:51:00.001-08:00

Watch: Le Cadeau de Temps

Walt Whitman:

When I heard the learn'd astronomer;

when the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me;

When I was shown the charts and the diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them;

When I, sitting, heard the astronomer, where he lectured with much applause in the lecture-room,

How soon, unaccountable, I became tired and sick;

Till rising and gliding out, I wander'd off by myself,

In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time,

Look'd up in perfect silence at the stars.

---
Advent. "Arise and shine, for your light has come." I know. But I want more than the knowledge of an astronomy student looking at textbook pictures. I want to understand like one who ventures beyond the lecture hall and lays beneath the stars. To deeply feel that he has come, and to experience the relevance of that in my life today. Right where you and I stand, and as complex as we exist, he makes himself relevant.

Many are asking, "Who can show us any good?" See? Thick darkness covers the earth. So, let the light of your face shine upon us, for it was you who said “Let light shine out of darkness.” Send forth your light, for in your light we see light. The unfolding of your word gives light. The unfolding of your word-- the Word that became flesh - a lamp and a light - and dwelt among us. On those living in the land of the shadow a light has dawned. Light has come. The people walking in darkness have seen a great light! Lift up your eyes and look about you… Look and be radiant. Your heart will throb and swell with joy. Those who look are radiant!

Now, what do I look for? As for me, the nearness of God is my good.

Isaiah 55

2008-09-21T12:21:00.000-07:00

Has it ever happened that you meet a person you might really care for, but in the sweet moments of questions and answers, you have no words? There is no longer a straight answer to even the simplest of questions, and rising up to look you in the eye (besides your new curiosity) is the memory of how many words you have given in the past and how many of those words were wasted. Pieces of my heart, whether beautiful or ugly, have gone out with my words, and so much of it returned void. I have a new perspective of why the heart should be guarded and how I’ve failed to guard it in the past. Someday a moment will come, and your heart will be called upon. It is a shame to have it hide in the back of a room, deeply scared of feeling void again.

I come to the Lord. His words go out, and they are never wasted. So I listen for His words like rain to wash over, around, and through me. They will cause me to flourish. They will cause my soul to live. They will cause me to yield good things. They will lead me forward in joy and peace.

From “Listening to Your Life” by Buechner. September 21, 2008
“John was a poet, and he knew about words. He knew that all men and all women are mysteries known only to themselves until they speak a word that opens up the mystery. He knew that the words people speak have their life in them just as surely as they have their breath in them. He knew that the words people speak have dynamite in them and that a word may be all it takes to set somebody’s heart on fire or break it in two.”

Psalm 16

2008-09-08T20:38:00.000-07:00

Every morning I watch the earth turn as I commute. The past two weeks have been full of lovely faces, both new and old. I'm overwhelmed with the feeling that God is kind, and it's like my heart is being made new over and over. It all has caught me by surprise. I am happy to be out from "under the radar" and back in community. I'm happy for life again! I'm happy for rest and beauty and simplicity and wholeness in my spirit. I'm happy for what I never thought I'd be happy for.

I think about the Levites and imagine looking across the same landscape of their inheritance. I breathe in deep and join them to say “Indeed, my heritage is beautiful to me!”

"Apart from you I have no good thing."

On Suffering.

2008-08-17T11:54:00.000-07:00

“It is said that the composer Sir Edward Elgar once listened to a young girl singing a solo from one of his own works. She had a voice of exceptional purity and clarity and range, and an almost perfect technique. When she had finished, Sir Edward said softly: ‘She will be really great when something happens to break her heart.’

–From The Letters of James and Peter by William Barclay

One of those.

2008-08-16T22:13:00.000-07:00

I posted these last week and thought I posted them twice (because there were 2 posts exactly alike), and I don't really know what made me accidentally delete them both. Matt said maybe that was a sign not to post while Bev asked where they went. So here's round two. Today turned out to be such a positive day and it makes me want to tell everyone I love them. You guys are so special. I wish all of you could come to my living room for songs and tea.

Necesito Longevity.

2008-07-02T22:16:00.001-07:00

Tonight I’m sitting out under the party lights with Macy Gray. She’s either antagonizing frogs or running around with a pecan in her mouth. I've been finding her with the same slobbery pecan all week long, and it’s becoming endearing.

This morning she was officially accepted into the family by going to the vet. We went in the waiting room, and her whole body began to twitch. Every animal twitches in the vet’s office. While we were there I looked through some of the files for other animals we’ve taken in. Here were some: Levi-Rocket, Boozer, Lucy, Rosco Pico-Train, Leboo, Fetch, Electro, and Yard Cat. Yes, there was actually a file for a “Yard Cat”. I have no idea.

I’ve been doing a bit of gardening for my mom. I enjoy it a lot except for the bugs. There are so many ant bites on my feet that I’m carrying anti-itch lotion in my pocket, and sometimes I fall asleep with visions of bouncing spiders. Those things scare the heck out of me!

On a better note, I’ve been painting again. Most of the time it is life giving unless it’s not going well. Last night it wasn’t going well. Two nights ago I started a painting that excited me, but it was taking so long that I finally went to sleep… a mindless decision. I went back last night and couldn’t finish it. I HAVE to keep painting until it is finished or else the mood is lost. That’s the reason I have tons of half-finished paintings all over the place. It really is the work of an artist to FINISH something. My parents keep hanging these unfinished things on the walls-- these disconnected paintings with ugly color blobs. I take them down and hide them under beds, but somehow they turn up in public again! It’s so embarrassing when guests want to know about my artwork on the walls.

Last night when I couldn’t finish the painting from the night before, I painted a bluebird instead. The look of it makes me stand funny. Mom stood funny too, and all she said was, “that’s a big bird!” Dad said, “I think you should put a caption next to it saying ‘I don’t like cats!’ and ‘I’m doing the best I can!’”
I’ll let you see it. I think you’ll understand …

I'm hoping for something much more noteworthy soon. Until then, if you happen to wake in the middle of the night, wish me longevity!

Meet Truman

2008-06-10T21:29:00.000-07:00

Or Tru-baby:
Truman Peter, the newest nephew born May 17th.

Evelyn is a proud big sister. She's growing up, and it's a blast to be closer right now for it. Today she called Mom's phone and left the best voicemail- Mom made me listen. It went something like this: "Hi Noni. What are you doing? You are?
And, are you painting pictures? What are you painting?
That's nice! I'll paint later, too. Mom painted too.
Ok, have a nice day, and bye!"

My favorite quote from Evelyn was when she said to me, "How about you ask your mom, and I'll ask my mom, and maybe you could come over, and it could be fun." She has so much to say, wears multiple skirts at the same time, and loves to ask "Why?"

John is doing wonderful, as well. Not talking too much, but he is very expressive and calm. He plays chase, trys on everyone's shoes, and dances with some natural grooves, it's great. I think he will be the artist. I feel like we've bonded, but I think everyone feels a special attachment to John, because he gives the best hugs, running at us with his arms wide open and tucking his head in on our shoulders.

This random dog showed up at the house a few weeks ago, and I decided to keep her. She's short, shaggy, spunky, and I named her Macy Gray because that's who she looked like. Evie and John were scared of her at first, always staring at her from a distance(which is understandable because she looks goofy), but they were soon fascinated with her. Anyway, I've had some sweet moments being an aunt lately, so I wanted to share a few photos with you.

Aunt Delay

2008-05-30T22:17:00.001-07:00

Today makes one year since Aunt Delay died. Mom, Jenny, and I went out for dinner. We reminisced about her, those special character traits she had… She had strangers sharing their darkest secrets within one sitting; she took a curious interest in people, making them feel so special. Maybe one reason why she was my favorite was because I always felt like her favorite.

Over the past year I blocked out many memories, and that was easier to do in Colorado. But this month I’m remembering. The sound of her voice is so alive in my mind. I miss sitting at her kitchen table drinking coffee, talking about English, whipped cream, boys, orchids, the Smoky Mountains, or whatever the topic of interest would be. Regardless of the topic, it always seemed significant to her.

So, tonight my mom and sister and I laughed and cried over the memories Aunt Delay left us with, and we found it strange that a year had already passed. It brought to mind the following quote by CS Lewis:

“We are so little reconciled to time that we are even astonished at it. "How he’s grown!" we exclaim, "How time flies!" as though the universal form of our experience were again and again a novelty. It is as strange as if a fish were repeatedly surprised at the wetness of water. And that would be strange indeed; unless of course the fish were destined to become, one day, a land animal.”

When I first read that quote it made me feel like everything was okay. Even my un-reconciliation with time that is always felt in one way or another. I ache for good times not to end because I will not end. And I ache for God to set all things right, because one day He will. He will heal diseases, mend relationships, and stop pain, anger and depression. He will bring laughter and fully restore His people to Himself. Naturally we long for fullness, because we are designed to experience this fullness. May we not grow weary in the waiting. May we not stop doing our part.

"No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love him." 1 Corinthians 2:9

For us who believe:

2008-05-05T01:59:00.000-07:00

What about the times when God’s friendship doesn’t seem friendly?
What about when talking to God is more frustrating than comforting?

Tonight I am frustrated. So frustrated. I drove home late and could feel the frustration settle around me. I wanted to ask God for something, but I didn’t. Do you understand not wanting to ask God for something, out of fear that he will give the opposite of what you ask? I’m serious. Have you ever asked for bread and felt like God gave you a stone instead?

Read this: “We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express… the Spirit intercedes for the saints in accordance with God's will” (Romans 8: 26-27). I’ve wondered if this means that the Spirit removes the words from my prayers and lays only my desire before the Father. If so, I wonder how my frustrated desires tonight are being translated, because I really do not want the words “bread” and “stone” to be misinterpreted.

Dwight Edwards used to say that God is wonderfully secure and able to handle my anger towards him. “Find refuge from the Lord in the Lord.” But many of us just stop. We stop fighting. We stop dreaming. We grow disenchanted with mostly everything… it’s a conditioned response, right? Disappointment has followed our good hopes enough times in the past, and why should we expect anything different the next time around?

I have a few situations that are nothing short of grotesque as far as I’m concerned, and I don’t like grotesque. I like peace. Being patient in the confusion and trusting a God I don’t understand is not natural. I want to SEE things be made right. I want to UNDERSTAND why bread from God often seems like a stone. I don’t have an easy name to live up to. On top of that, walking by faith is no longer recognized as an intelligent option in our world… “BUT God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong. He chose the lowly things of this world and the despised things...” 1 Corinthians 1: 27-28

2008-04-23T03:08:00.000-07:00

At home I run on cow trails, dodging poison ivy and crossing streams on wobbly stones. Sometimes my foot slips and water squishes in my shoes all the way home. But I am happy to be at home for now. The fields are green, full of Bluebonnets and Indian Paintbrushes. It is a beautiful time to be in Texas.

Of course I can’t see it right now because it is only 4am. I’ve been awake for two hours refusing to turn on the light, but finally I gave in. The next decision is whether or not I’ll turn on the coffee pot. That would be the final step in letting my day begin four hours premature.

I’m living in the Red Barn for the present, until a teaching job and living arrangements are in order. My mind is flooded with education articles and the growing list of “Things to Learn”. The more I learn, the more excited I get about this direction I’m taking. And, the more I keep looking forward, the less I worry with the sentimental effects of leaving Colorado.

“Some people don’t feel a thing,
Some kind of blissful dream,
I wish I could live that now…”
Those are lyrics from a song in my March playlist. I don’t necessarily want to walk around in a blissful dream, but I would like to know why I feel so much when it doesn’t seem like other people do.

I thought maybe my melancholy music didn’t help, so I’m listening to happier stuff, and the responses have been positive. For example: sometimes when driving I just want to pull into the nearest parking lot and DANCE! I’d be shy if you were with me, but when I’m alone I open up those closets and dance!
“Gotta let that music get down in your soul!”

That’s it. I’m going to turn on that coffee pot and unpack me some paintbrushes…

He Thought...

2008-03-26T14:04:00.001-07:00

Once there was a boy who thought. At first people met him and said, “How good it is that he thinks!” So he thought more. It was as if he were born to think. The older he got, the more thoughts he had, and in time layers of thoughts formed in his mind.

Thought upon thought upon thought. So deep were the layers and so sunken was he within them that he did not hear when people talked to him, and he did not notice when they quit talking to him. They did not understand him. He did not try to make them understand. He just kept on thinking. He thought about his past and the parts that made him strong. He thought about his future and all he could accomplish in his mind.

But his thoughts never left his mind, and each day they increased in density. The atmosphere surrounding him became thin and unsupportive, and his head began expanding like a balloon at high altitudes. Until one day – BURST! – He exploded into many tiny pieces – dozens and dozens of disconnected thoughts floating through the sky, all unnamed and unknown.

If the people in the world—those for whom conversation came natural and undistracted— if they had only known the tragedy that took place when the boy’s thoughts were gone, they would forever mark that day as one of misfortune. As it was, they never knew.

Silly Title, Good Poetry

2008-02-09T08:22:00.000-08:00

It's not often I find poetry I really like. This made me upset for awhile, since poetry was my emphasis in college... I've tried to like all kinds of things, because I thought I should be open minded and broad in my appreciations.

But in December I read The Pilgrim's Regress by C.S. Lewis, a spin off of Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress. The character John catches glimpses of an enchanted island far away, and it awakens a great desire in him. Realizing it is the finest thing he has ever experienced, he leaves on a journey to find this island. At one stop he meets a group of people who tell him what good art is. When he disagrees, they tear him up for it. So he runs from them, only to have another person show him real art, but once again, John didn't find it beautiful. This point is interesting... the book says John only found beautiful the things which reminded him of his island, the things which redirected him to the source of his desire.

So, when it comes down to it, every encounter is either life-giving for me or it isn't. It may look different than what gives you life, which is alright, but each of us must pursue the things which give us life. In a fun game Matt Graham and I recently played in Barnes and Noble, we read from "Love Poems From God," the book with a silly title, but good poetry. It's the first poetry book in a long time that gives me glimpses of my island. I finally bought it last night. Here are some poems I wanted to share with you:

TWO GIANT FAT PEOPLE
by: Hafiz

God
and I have become
like two giant fat people living
in a tiny
boat.

We
keep bumping into
each other
and

l
a
u
g
h
i
n
g
.

RUMI, PAY HOMAGE
by: Rumi

If God said,

"Rumi, pay homage to everything
that has helped you
enter my
arms,"

there would not be one experience of my life,
not one thought, not one feeling,
not any act, I
would not bow
to.

NOT YET TICKLED
by:St. Teresa

How did those priests ever get so serious
and preach all that
gloom?

I don't think God
tickled them
yet.

Beloved-- hurry.

WRING OUT MY CLOTHES
by: St. Francis

Such love does
the sky now pour,
that whenever I stand in a field,

I have to wring out the light
when I get
home.

2008-01-06T17:55:00.000-08:00

Memories are the home
Moving with me wherever I go
I want to make this a healthy home

I have plenty of stories
About my failures and glories
I am living in between

I need to see a tender face
Need to receive someone’s grace
I need to feel at home in this place

Remembering is a way of life
That keeps me alright
Keeps me choosing to be alright

from "The Great Divorce"

2007-11-27T21:25:00.000-08:00

"When you painted on earth- at least in your earlier days- it was because you caught glimpses of Heaven in the earthly landscape. The success of your painting was that it enabled others to see the glimpses too...

When you've grown into a Person there'll be some things which you'll see better than anyone else. One of the things you'll want to do is tell us about them. But not yet. At present your business is to see. Come and see. He is endless...

If you are interested in the country only for the sake of painting it, you'll never learn to see the country... Light itself was your first love: you loved paint only as a means of telling about light...

Every poet and musician and artist, but for Grace, is drawn away from love of the thing he tells, to love of the telling till, down in Deep Hell, they cannot be interested in God at all but only in what they say about Him."

from Tennyson's "Ulysses"

2007-11-09T11:28:00.000-08:00

"Come, my friends,
'Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down:
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.

Tho' much is taken, much abides; and though
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield."

...here I'm tested...

2007-11-04T21:58:00.000-08:00

"There's a wideness in God's mercy
I cannot find in my own
And He keeps His fire burning
To melt this heart of stone
Keeps me aching with a yearning
Keeps me glad to have been caught
In the reckless raging fury
That they call the love of God ...

Joy and sorrow are this ocean
And in their every ebb and flow
Now the Lord a door has opened
That all Hell could never close
Here I'm tested and made worthy
Tossed about but lifted up
In the reckless raging fury
That they call the love of God"

-Rich Mullins

Right Now

2007-10-23T00:09:00.000-07:00

We decide to share our morning break together in the office kitchen. Setting my coffee down, I slide into a chair and rest my chin on my hands. He stands by the window, light-footed over the opportunity to share his new discoveries, but unable to get enough words out during a mere fifteen minutes. He speaks with refreshing excitement and offers a quick chance to learn from his thoughtfulness. This is becoming the daily case: so much overflowing from his bright mind, yet not enough time and capacity for me to catch it all, though I wish I could.

His eyes open wide as he speaks. I find myself envying their wideness, because I too have had eyes that open wide, but right now they are half-mast. He interrupts these thoughts to ask: “What is the vision you have for your life?”

My vision!? Wow! Why did you have to ask me that right now? Because in the past I’ve had vision, but right now I just don’t remember. I need a few evenings to be away from everyone and simply listen to the wind. I need time to write about what I’ve thought or seen or heard or felt. Then I need to ask God what He is saying and doing through it all. I know God is always on the move, that He is active and interested. I know I’ve never had the best memory. But after I make room for remembering, I’ll tell you what I see.

"If people can't see what God is doing, they stumble all over themselves; But when they attend to what he reveals, they are most blessed."
Proverbs 29:18 - The Message

"You must have a room or a certain hour or so a day ... a place where you can simply experience and bring forth what you are and what you might be... at first you may find that nothing happens there. But if you have a sacred space and use it, something eventually will happen."
-Joseph Campbell

2007-10-07T07:11:00.000-07:00

My mug was half empty
I nearly lost my mind
So I set my thoughts steering
South on I-45

To the friends who become
The perkolator and the coffee:
When I go home you fill me
To the brim with your belief

I have cringed at my reflection
And witheld from you my grace
I’ve denied you your freedom
And denied you my embrace

But I'll find comfort in my skin
So you can do the same
I'm remembering you're special
I'm remembering your name

I'm making room for your thoughts
Let me process them too
Let me care about your interests
And be influenced by you

At the heart of my progression
I am hoping to be kind
And to find zealous people
To befriend before I die

Like you who walk before me
And when willing lag behind
To share methods for routing
Paths to meter and to rhyme

You help me smile through the seasons
You make me thankful for the time
Before my mind makes the journey
Back up I-45

=====
“When you remember me, it means that you have carried something of who I am with you, that I have left some mark of who I am on who you are. It means that you can summon me back to your mind even though countless years and miles may stand between us. It means that if we meet again, you will know me. It means that even after I die, you can still see my face and hear my voice and speak to me in your heart."
-Frederick Buechner

No Apologies

2007-09-22T15:18:00.000-07:00

I’m tired of apologizing. There is a new way of life I’m cultivating. I call it “No apologies”. Real innovative, I know! I don’t care. It’s the most suitable thought I have. It might sound arrogant, unless you are like me.

Hi, I’m Faith, and I am a continual re-visitor to my character flaws, beyond the point of confession and into the realms of obsession. I have my theories as to how it began, but regardless, I sometimes have a strange pack following me around. It breaks down like this: Need-to-Please is the leader of the pack, and is followed around by Self-Consciousness, Self-Evaluation (that relentless pest!), and My-Apologies-Please! I’ve noticed Self-Hatred running with them from time to time, and none of them seem to mind.

They encourage me to apologize, not in a grace-accepting way, but more in a self-condemning way. So, I apologize for disagreeing with you, for making you unhappy, for being too confident in my opinions, or for always changing my mind. I apologize for not making sense or for being too quiet. And on top of that, what about the times when my clothes don’t match and my body is a mess?

Wow, don’t get me started, because I may never stop!

“Self-consciousness is the curse of the city and all that sophistication implies. It is the glimpse of oneself in a storefront window.”

Annie Dillard says that in order for something beautiful to come forth, we must learn to get out of the way. Occasionally, when I get out of the way, I understand what Annie means when she says, “even a few moments of self-forgetfulness is extremely invigorating”…Invigorating? If she's saying that self-forgetfulness fills us with energy and life, then I want it! That sounds like freedom! Perhaps it is the freedom Paul meant when he said “It is for freedom you’ve been set free.” And, I'm learning that one of the greatest gifts I can give you is my own freedom. When I am free to be myself with you, I honor you, because that means I am at home with you, and I want to be at home with you.

WITH you...

The thought leads me to Genesis, because that's how my mind works: always on the verge of taking scripture out of its generational context to hang it like wallpaper on my present days. So here we go. See Jacob, who hung out with his mom all day near the tents. Jacob, the son never quite accepted by his dad, but living in the shadow of the big brother. Jacob, who deceived his dad and stole from his brother. Jacob, who ran away from home in fear and fell asleep on a rock. Then see God, who woke Jacob up in the middle of the night. God, who comes in the middle of the darkness, not to talk about Jacob's painful past or his recent faults, but to say:

I am the Lord!
I will give you a great inheritance.
I will keep you wherever you go.
I will fulfill my purpose for you.
I will not leave you.
I AM WITH YOU.

And it seems that through this God says: "Forget yourself. Forget how you screwed up yesterday. Forget how you feel hurt. Take hold of a vision that is far bigger than you. Think of me. Remember me. Remember I am with you." And that is the God I want to know. Emmanuel. God WITH us, wanting to give us visions so great that we forget ourselves and make room for something beautiful to come forth. He is the "With-us" God.

"Be imitators of God, as beloved children. And walk in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us."
Ephesians 5:1

Moving Forward

2007-07-31T14:23:00.000-07:00

Dear Friend,

Lately there are moments that bring new songs moving inside me-- songs of moving forward, of enjoying the peace. Songs of recognizing and adding to the beauty. These are moments I would have shared with you.

But I have learned that life is sacred, whether we show up to recognize it or not. We are sacred, whether someone cares to hear about us or not. Our moments are sacred, whether we share them with someone or not.

Wherever you are, I hope you're at peace. I hope you're recognizing beauty. I hope you're adding to the beauty.

"Love makes us beautiful" -Brennan Manning

Evening Breeze

2007-07-23T20:11:00.000-07:00

Evening breeze, bring me a dream
bring a vision of what this song should be...

I thought I should bring a story
to which they might find themselves relating,
but it seems I can only sing of trees
bending in the evening breeze

Life is kind enough to let us dream
and fill us with visions of what our days should be

Life is fragile, and it’s sweet
and when the end is near we cling
like Autumn’s final stubborn leaf
unyielding to the evening breeze

STORIES FOR TODAY...

2007-07-14T10:09:00.000-07:00

“I’m kind of seatbelt oriented. I was in church one morning and tried to put my seatbelt on, and now I sat down and tried to do it again!”

One of the ladies in Candy’s Coffee just said this to Jim, Candy’s husband. He laughed and made a joke, in his lighthearted way. Jim is a school bus driver, so he usually has a child’s joke to share, such as “What is the best time to go to the dentist? Tooth-hurty!! Get it? Two thirty? Haaa!” You really can’t help but love him. When I come in he plays “Oh Danny Boy” on the piano, at first by my request, but now I don’t even have to ask. He sees me walk in and comes to play it again. Moments like these are worth preserving.

You may have noticed my page layout was green for a week, and now it's white. I need white today. White is clean, and I need a clean place, considering what a mess all my other places are. My neat-freak tendencies continue to fade as the year progresses. Maybe Jessie has rubbed off on me, but I don’t mean that offensively. I wish you could meet Jessie. She makes me appreciate life in a new way. By “life”, I don’t mean my own. She helps me forget myself and appreciate all that is living around me, like animals. Last Fall I walked into Jessie’s room and found she had been keeping a rat in a cage. She confessed she was too scared to tell me. I don’t blame her, but it was funny. I’ve learned it’s a unique and special part of Jessie’s character to bring animals home. I know it’s important to her that I find a way to acknowledge and appreciate that.

So far this summer she has saved a salamander and three chipmunks from the waterslides. The chipmunks were brought home to live in the rat cage. Unfortunately, the cage door somehow opened, so now we have three chipmunks living in our house, under our couches, in our closets, and we can’t catch them. We hear them, and in the mornings we see their droppings on the coffee table. It’s a strange chipmunk infestation! What makes the story even better is that we are not allowed to have animals in our apartment, but this week Jessie adopted a friend’s puppy. In order to keep the puppy, she bought a tent for her and the puppy to live outside the rest of the summer while the chipmunks still run through our house. It’s such a riot! I remember a friend saying once, “He who dies with the best stories wins” and so many events lately are helping me pull out front.

One of the guys I work with, Matt, often reminds of what to do. Recently he asked me, “Faith, does it bother you when I tell you what to do?” I lied and said no. Then a few minutes later I said, “Alright, I’ll be honest... when it bothers me, it’s only because I’m being resilient.”

The look he gave me said “Huh?” so I said, “Okay I’ll be honest again… I don’t really know what that word means!” We looked it up and found it means “flexible; able to recover and return to original form after being compressed or stretched” which is a great definition, although a total contrast to the context I used it in. So, we laughed and now use the word as often as possible. Like in regards to the plants I take care of at the office. For two weeks I neglected them, but lately with some TLC they are proving to be quite resilient!

“Plants can’t fake it like people can. They don’t tell you everything’s fine if it isn’t.”

Next Friday, July 20th, I am playing in Colorado Springs, along with my new friend Luke Flowers, whose art I love! I am excited to try out some new songs and begin building a community in Colorado Springs, since I'll be living there in a month!

Here's my ad for the day...

Macintosh: the new way into a child’s heart! Cassi Filbrun says “Can we take pictures of our face?”

It helps with my pastor’s kids as well.

Catch your dogs

2007-07-01T22:53:00.000-07:00

“Your thoughts are like dogs,” Dad always says. “At first they run wild, and you have to catch them. But after time, as you consistently train them, they begin to obey. Right now your dogs are running wild and you need to go catch them.”

Catch your dogs. It was over a year ago when Dad began saying that to me. I was at the peak of some sort of depression and must have seemed so unresponsive, but I’m glad my parents were persistent to speak truth over my life. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that when a negative thought enters my mind, regardless of what it may be, there’s a good chance it’s a lie and needs to be double-checked. So, a goal of mine this year has been to dwell more on what is good and praiseworthy around me instead of what is bad.

Things that are praiseworthy.... like this evening. I sit alone in a house beside an aspen grove, with signs of rain in the distance and wind blowing through the leaves and through these open windows. This year I have tasted and seen that the Lord is good. How happy are those whose god is the Lord! And those who fear the Lord lack no good thing! Tonight I can visualize what it means to let peace rule in my heart.

This year in Colorado has been a good one. Would I show up to tell you if the year had been bad? I doubt it. Chances are I would only hide. But I wonder, what makes it count as a good year? Did I paint enough? Did I make new music? Read enough? Write enough? Run enough? Are those what count the most? Or, did I experience life? Did I feel things? Did I cry and laugh and love and grow from it all? Did I talk to God? Did I listen? Did I trust Him? Did I see His face in the things and people around me? Did I put my energy where I strongly believe Christ would put His energy?

This morning at the Mennonite Church, Matthew talked about our church’s mission statement and core values. The first core value of our church says this: “We must be FOR our deepest convictions and NOT AGAINST those with different convictions.” This is the question: Am I going to spend my thoughts and energy fighting against what I believe is wrong or fighting for what I believe is right? The difference can seem so slight, but it’s a difference of negativism vs. positivism. Where are we when it comes to having a critical spirit? What does it really mean to be about our own deep convictions, and not just against those of everyone else? We’re so quick to tell people what we know, to be judgmental and critical, but what does it look like to live from a positive conviction? I guess first we must know what our convictions are. We must know what we want our lives to be about, from the simple things to the great.

I want to keep saving teabags.
I want to keep drawing on napkins when I’m at restaurants.
I want to leave margins in the corners of my days to hear life speak.
I want to be a life-giver, not a life-taker.
I want to add to the beauty.

One morning this past week I woke to a text message from my dad that said, “Coffee is ready at the Red Barn.” That one sentence was all it took to wake me up and get me excited for the day… a memory of something good: coffee in the mornings with Mom and Dad. Later that morning I talked with Dad. He said he’s been waking up early to walk around the Red Barn… “I want to make that a way of life, going to the barn in the morning. It’s giving me a different frame of mind.”

A statement worth lingering on for a while.

---
He left me with a few motivational thoughts for the day, which I found good and praiseworthy. So I'll share with you:
- Find places of solitude that return you to your roots. Your roots are not your hometown, they’re your ideas.
- Find a refuge you can point to, whether you’re in a crowd or by yourself.
- Find a way to live with uncertainties.
- Don’t set yourself up for disappointment.
- Don’t get yourself in a mental bind where you can’t think straight.
- Don’t get preoccupied with thoughts and bump your head on a beam.
- The people around you are shaping you. Enjoy them.
- Keep on plugging.
- Stay ready to keep from getting ready.
- K-A-T, I’m outta here!

June 19: The Final Secret...

2007-06-20T15:45:00.000-07:00

(From Listening to Your Life by Frederick Buechner)

The final secret, I think, is this: that the words "You shall love the Lord your God" become in the end less a command than a promise. And the promise is that, yes, on the weary feet of faith and the fragile wings of hope, we will come to love him at last as from the first he has loved us-

loved us even in the wilderness, especially in the wilderness, because he has been in the wilderness with us. He has been in the wilderness for us. He has been acquainted with our grief. And, loving him, we will come at last to love each other too so that, in the end, the name taped on every door will be the name of the one we love.

"And these words which I command you this day shall be upon your heart; and you shall teach them diligently to your children, and you shall talk of them when you sit in your house, and when you walk by the way, and when you rise."

And rise we shall, out of the wilderness, every last one of us, even as out of the wilderness Christ rose before us. That is the promise, and the greatest of all promises.

they finished!

2007-06-15T11:00:00.000-07:00

I'm so proud of Tim and Tara and Aaron and the rest of my homegroup in Texas, not only to do music with them, but to have them as a community that changed my life. I know some of you remember Tim from Grace Bible Church and will be excited to know he finally finished the CD.

Check it out here
and here

Where are you?

2007-05-18T12:30:00.001-07:00

Tell your story
I’ll treat it tender
like a rare treasure
'cause it’s only yours

When you first heard music
did it made you quiver
like a cold river
running through your heart?

There have been times when
you lost your song
and the sadness caused
your body to sink

But my friend, you will stand in the end
to see Love tread upon your grave
It stands above your shame

We are travelers
with eyes for beauty
sometimes losing
or ruining our names

But the sun's still rising
it’s flooding the skies
we can feel its reflection
rising in our eyes

And I know we will stand in the end
to see Love tread upon our graves
It stands above our shame

----------------------------
"I know that my Defender lives, and that in the end He will stand upon my grave. And after I awake, though this body has been destroyed, then apart from my flesh I will see God; I myself will see Him with my own eyes...How my heart yearns within me"
Job 19:25...

Alone

2007-05-03T11:38:00.000-07:00

I felt a change in the wind
Heard it high in the trees
I had to go out alone

If I don’t know who I am
How can I really know you?
I had to go out alone

I tried to look out the window
But only saw my reflection
I had to leave it behind

Had to learn my real name
Had to hush for a while
Had to go out alone

I heard nothing for months
Watching the earth fall asleep
Under layers of snow

But now on cloudless days
I hear again in the pines
Wind beginning to blow

It brings whispers of words
Calling out my name
I sit to hear it alone

It is a time for listening
A time remembering
I am never alone

Someday I'll return
When the snowing stops
When our season of hushing is over

Then I will try to tell you
What this quiet stillness
Helps me to remember…

I am loved as I am
I can overcome
But I can’t do it alone

I think about you
Then I think about me
Out here on my own

There was a time for mourning
Now a time confessing
I often get it wrong
Trying to do it alone
I don’t want to do this alone

Evie Sings Twinkle

2007-04-05T11:22:00.000-07:00

See why being an aunt is changing my life (and why kids don't freak me out anymore)! This is my niece, Evelyn, and my new nephew, baby John, the most peaceful baby ever to hold.

winter fading

2007-03-26T08:49:00.000-07:00

Tonight Mara and I restored our tradition of going for walks when the moon is bright. We walked down County Road 130 without need of a headlamp, and at the bottom of the road turned around and gasped at the overwhelming sight of constellations and snow-covered mountains reflecting the light of the moon.

Winter is melting for us all, most of all for Mara. It is a special privilege to witness God stoop down and make well the hearts of His miserable children. Especially when you know what it’s like to be the miserable child He chooses to make well. God teaches Mara to walk and talk again, and I get to be part of it. I get to listen to the voice of God not only in my own life, but also in the life of my friend.
Thank You, Lord, that I get to live this life! In the future when I look back I will not regret the way I lived tonight, because tonight I am glad to be living in this moment I am given. I do not wish to be anywhere else, or to have anything else. Peace is a wholeness at the core of your being, not based on circumstances. (According to Matthew, again).

Earlier this week while running on Masey Lane, a bluebird bounced alongside me, from one fence post to another. It was the deepest blue I’ve seen on a bird, and the closest glimpse I’ve gotten for an extended amount of time. In spite of the lingering snow at the edges of the fields, the grass was freshly cut, with tracks left by the mowers. And cradled in the breezes of the early morning, I smelled camp again-- the distinct Horn Creek smell that has been buried under snow for the past 6 months. I love the newness of each season here in Westcliffe. I love that because of God’s kindness, I am not who I was when I moved here. Spring is full of beauty and new life awakening all around me.

I hear springtime in Texas has been lovely, and I am excited to experience it in 10 days. Until then… If I could recommend one book to you, please read (at least part of) "A Testament of Hope", which is a collection of the essential writings and speeches of Martin Luther King, Jr. It is the gospel that causes most of my tears these days. Take care, and if you get the chance, go meet with God under the oaks, like Abraham did.

"True peace is not merely the absence of some negative force--tension, confusion, or war; it is the presence of some positive force--justice, goodwill and brotherhood." -MLK, Jr.

An Aspen theme, mostly

2007-01-24T17:31:00.000-08:00

"Between every two [Aspens] is a doorway to a new world." -John Muir

This was a quote written on the inside of my Montrail shoebox. It originally said 'pines', but for the sake of applying it to my artwork, I use 'aspen'. The inside of the shoebox also said that Americans alone consume over 850 million trees a year. I can't shake this statistic, because trees are my good friends. Like I've said before, sometimes it would seem as if I have better conversations with trees than with people.

Trees are the theme of my blog, and Aspens are the true Shaky Leaf Trees. My friends here in Colorado often laugh because I remind them that we did not inherit this earth from our ancestors; we're borrowing it from our children. The beauty of creation, though fading, is worth fighting to preserve. I really believe this more and more each day, because I know my own need for creation. I need to witness the beautiful harmony of nature. It is essential to my survival. Trees speak to me of something greater than myself. They speak of God. They usher me into His presence and restore me to His peace.

So, my goal in these recent paintings was to communicate how nature leads me to a new world, a world that speaks of something greater than ourselves, a doorway that ushers us into the peace of God. I hope you connect.

Be a peacemaker among men today. I love you.

---

Christmastime in Dallas

2007-01-02T20:03:00.000-08:00

I wonder if lonely people live on Lovers Lane in Dallas, hidden well behind wood shudders or overgrown gardens. I wonder if they scowl at the couple next door who holds hands every afternoon while walking to the mailbox.

My tire went flat on the loop around Dallas in the middle of five o'clock traffic. Hundreds of cars passed me by. Only two people stopped; only one I knew: my brother's wife, Amy. The other was the curteousy road crew. Do you ever get the overwhelming feeling that no one knows any one? Everyone is too lonely inside and too crowded outside.

Matthew says single people never get enough physical touch. I don't feel like I'm missing the touch, but then again, it was never my love language. I'll say this, though...last week Dubbs and Amy took me to meet their home group leader. I put out my hand for the shake, but this man pulled me in and hugged me. Within 20 minutes of meeting him, he hugged me twice, patted me warmly on the back, and looked at me so tenderly. It opened a small vista upon my home-- my true home, not the physical one. I didn’t realize how much I needed that expression of love from this man, but maybe Matthew was right.

At Panera Bread I found a quiet seat in the corner until two older ladies sat down beside me. Out of all the places to sit, they chose the table within two feet of me. I couldn't help but listen to their conversation. One began telling the other how lonely she was. I don't know why she was lonely; maybe her husband had died. Anyhow, she told her friend that all this time living alone was not fit for her. How had so-n-so done it for so many years?

I don’t know. What do I know? Years behind her experience, I can’t relate. I confess, I’m still able to keep myself entertained, so what do I know of loneliness? I know I was miserable for months in Junior High when Jenny moved to college. I know that since then I've never ached so badly for anyone who left me. But when my niece, Evelyn, scooted close to me last week, when she held my hand and cried when I was out of sight, my heart longed for an undefined something. For the place, I suppose, where love is undamaged. Evelyn loves me without reservation, which is more than I can do for others.
---

Jenny says she feels like her spiritual life is on a hold. She feels like she lives in one of the round ornaments on her Christmas tree. She knows God is at work and doing things all around, but she doesn't see it. She's constantly tired, looking after Evelyn and baby John. We talked a good deal about caring for those in poverty, as well as what I learned a couple of weeks ago while helping with hurricane relief in New Orleans. It seems that there is a very soft place in God's heart for the weak. True religion in His eyes is meeting the needs of those who are unable to meet their own needs. That is exactly what Jenny does full time. I cannot fathom the sacrifice of being a mother. I cannot imagine giving up my freedom that way... always tired, always a "to do" list, and no alone time. I read pretty books about true religion, but Jenny doesn’t need to read the book. Her life is the book.

---

Inadequate, but at least something...

2006-12-04T15:14:00.000-08:00

Since I don't have some sort of online photo album for the majority of people to view, I'd like to introduce Colorado to you this way... Meet the interns I work with...

We have Jonathan, Kellie, Luke, me, Mara, Jessie, Sarah, and Dominick.

Dominick is my fellow Aggie. I have enjoyed him being part of the group and getting to know him more. This past week we went snow shoeing, and it's one of my new favorite things! In case you're wondering what snow shoeing is... my sister asked, "Is that walking through the snow with those tennis racket things on your feet?" Yes, it is!

This is Mara. I've told you about Mara before, but our friendship gets more special to me as we've had more hard and honest conversations. She is a deep thinker, and she doesn't like people pointing out beauty to her, she wants to be able to find it on her own. I like the way she thinks.

This is Jessie and me, making our trip to the hardware store a little more exciting. She is probably the funniest girl I've ever met. Funny guys seem to be more frequent than funny girls, but Jessie could really be a comedian as far as I'm concerned. And the greatest thing about it is that she doesn't use her humor to tear others down. I haven't laughed so hard in a long time.

This is Polly, Jessie, and me at the Foxes house. I have this turquoise hat that I got at Keystone like 10 years ago. It's pretty gross, but it's still my favorite. They think it looks like Dopey's hat from Snow White, so sometimes I pull my ears out to complete the look. They've started calling me Dopey quite a bit.

This is me and Polly. I no longer work in the office. I'm working out on the field with Polly. Working with Polly has been a party. Literally. We dance a lot! And make up new words. And we've listened to Ryan Adams "Desire" CD about 100 times already. Today we hung Christmas lights through camp, she shocked the hell out of herself, and I almost died trying to hang Christmas lights while standing on a wobbly ladder! She doesn't believe me, but it's true. I could have died. Anyhow, we both got season ski passes, so she is my ski buddy on our days off.

This is Kellie, Bill, and Peter. Kellie and Jessie both came together from Wisconsin. Kellie loves dressing up more than anyone I've ever met. She lives to dress up! And Bill... he's got this insane ability to make anyone smile. It's like flowers start blooming when he goes somewhere. He's already won the hearts of all the women at the local bank! It's good to work with happy people!

The Meadow. We love sleeping and making campfires in the Meadow! This is my main refuge here. If I had 1.5 million dollars I would buy the Meadow. If you have 1.5 million and want to buy it, it's for sale.

Sarah... she's my little feminist. She has one of the most interesting personalities I've known. We enjoy listening to Emmy Lou Harris together, singing Poncho and Lefty. She grew up on a ranch, loves to ride her horse, and knows every rap song. Since we both share a love for literature, we've started a book club.

Matthew, my ministry director, dancing with two of his kids. He is my Brian Fisher of Colorado. He's been giving me a lot of opportunities to do music and art and teaching here at camp. He has this neat ability to take a group to both the lighthearted and serious ends of the spectrum, which is rare I think.

I write all this from a coffee shop here in Westcliffe called "Coffee &". I like Coffee& for a lot of reasons. But two I'll share... The owners name is Candy, and she's a rude barista. Not anymore since I'm getting to know her, but at first she was. You've got to admire someone who is real, even when it can be ugly. Me, I've got this incessant need to be nice to all people, but sometimes I wish I could just be rude if I felt like it. Is that wierd? But the good thing about it is that there are no pretenses. The person only gets better as you get to know them, instead of one day letting you discover that they really are human and can get mad at the world.

My other reason is that it's called "Coffee &", as if we get to fill in the blank: Coffee & ____. Coffee & laughter. Coffee and deep thoughts. Coffee and a new book. Coffee and you, if you were here.

I wish you were here.

Fall is Exfoliation

2006-11-09T15:17:00.000-08:00

I woke this morning to what sounded like someone opening my door. I crawled out of bed to turn my alarm clock off before it sounded… there was a presence about the morning that no alarm clock should disturb. Walking out of my room, I heard it—the sound of seasons changing. I’ve never heard anything like the Colorado wind. My house creaks because the wind is so compressing. It runs round and round the house, teasing, tickling, trying to find a weak spot where it can enter. It tries for the skylights, the windows, the crack beaneath the door, and I safely sit on the couch to watch the pines bending outside.

Strange to me is how winter's approach in Colorado is so different than in Texas. In Colorado it is more subtle. Gradually the evenings get colder, the cold lingers longer in the mornings, then it stays all through the day until one day it snows. But in Texas winter comes on a distinct day. Overnight the wind turns cold on your face and held in the air is the smell of change brought down by the Northerns. It’s one of my favorite days of the year in Texas. I miss walking home from class, taking the longer route to pass through the historic neigborhood where streets are thick with colors of Autumn. When the wind would rise, it would catch the leaves in the gutter and raise them up to encircle me as a blanket.

I’ve noticed how often my disposition is closely related to what the weather is doing. Not only this year, but every year, Fall is exfoliation. And not only for the Earth, but for my soul as well. The old is leaving. This Fall I have been stripped of many comforts I held dear. My home. Relationships I’ve treasured. Sometimes I wake up early and sad, hurting for friends and for broken things I don’t know how to mend.

I’ve been thinking of God as the Giver and the Taker. Lately some friends and I have been sharing our life stories with each other. As I listen to their stories, and as I remember the life stories of my home group back in Texas, I am humbled to realize that God has given me so much... all of it being things I have no control over, like where I was born, I have parents that care, I've always been healthy, provided for, and protected from a lot of pains, and now here in Colorado I've been given so many exciting opportunities that I hope to share with you someday. It makes me wonder why. Why should God choose to give me so much and protect me from so much? I don't know. I am genuinely grateful, though, and I realize two important things: 1) From the fullness of His grace we have all received one blessing after another, and 2) To whom much is given, much is required.

Then I think of all that has been taken from me lately. I never knew the word “take” could be so beautiful. If there’s to be any new, the old has to go, and I really want to see the new. So, if God needs to make room in my heart for May, I don't want to fight Him anymore. Even though it confuses me. If everything computed, then what's the point of believing? "And without faith it is impossible to please God."

“I want to keep my soul fertile for the changes, so things keep getting born in me, so things keep dying when it is time for things to die. I want to keep walking away from the person I was a moment ago, because a mind was made to figure things out, not to read the same page recurrently.” –Donald Miller

In Colorado

2006-08-25T15:36:00.000-07:00

I am brought home by the sound of rain and the sun resting down on the valley.

It is not really a home of physical location, but of the spirit. Being here in Colorado was the last place I expected, especially after all the other plans I had… Mexico… teaching… art school…? … Sometimes if I think about it too much I wonder how this happened. I’m not sure how I made the decision. It seems the decision more-so made me; I just held on for the ride.

It was here where the question first came for me, “Won’t you let yourself be green again?” Yes. I don’t know how, but yes. One of the best things about being back here is being able to make peace with a place that haunted me all year. It haunted me because of the way I ran away, allowing emotions to govern my actions rather than truth. Because of my unfaithfulness to my word and the way I left on awkward terms with some of the people. So I decided to face my demon and actually found no demon at all, but the face of God. One beautiful surprise came in Mara, who I met last summer. We’ve had heart to hearts the past two nights, and she told me she was nervous about me coming back because she didn’t remember us liking eachother last summer. Honestly, I don’t think we did. But from the first time we saw eachother this year, it was ironically like seeing an old friend. I have enjoyed spending time with her. There is a strength about her that makes me smile. Last night as she was walking away, she shouted back, “I’m glad we click, Faith!”

I’m glad too. I am glad in a way that is more than I can express. I am glad to live with girls again and to actually feel love for them. They are each a treasure. They already break my heart in a beautiful way. I look forward to sharing life with them. Maybe that’s why my spirit is being brought home. I am being restored to a spiritual place of love and peace and rest. I am learning to ask forgiveness and to embrace the fact that I am also human and must be tender with myself as I am with others. Blended in all of us is the beauty of God with our own depravity. Flowers still bloom in polluted soil.
Birds still bathe in dingy streets.
Beautiful views still stretches behind powerlines…

So this contrast remains in me.

It was hard to leave home. But I had a good-bye, not a bad-bye. I went on as many Lewis and Clark expeditions as possible with Levi. I got sentimental about certain things, like coffee in the morning with mom and dad, or even silly stuff, such as a rock or a tree. I sat by the beautiful fountains over at the Red Barn, watching the wind blow through the willow tree, and I knew that no matter how beautiful other places are, nowhere can replace my home of the past 23 years. Acknowledging this freed me to leave my home in a peaceful mindset. I love my home, and even though I have moved, my home has not been replaced. My home is expanding. Peace and rest and belief are expanding. A year from now new rocks, trees, and pathways will be familiar. The way the pines bend in the wind. The aspens, which are the true shaky leaf trees. The aspen eyes that watch me as I hike. They will be part of me, and I will be part of them. The people who are mysterious to me now will soon be familiar. I will understand expressions. I will be a part of them, as they will be a part of me.
My family is expanding.
Love is expanding.
I am learning that genuine love does not depend on proximity. Love is not an impetus, but a stimulus. It gives courage to explore unknown realms and be changed in unpredictable ways for the good. It presses against us on all sides. Love’s presence is here with me, timid as I am, giving me courage to respect what I cannot understand or control. Love is the coat we wear.

“Make your home in Me as I make My home in you” John 15:4

the mural progression

2006-06-15T15:08:00.000-07:00

I got the wonderful opportunity to paint a mural for a coffeehouse. I thought the mural was to be 11ft long and at the last minute discovered a 40ft wall awaiting me! So, a trip that was to last only a few days became a two week stay in the Texas hill country. For years I have visited the hill country, but for the first time I recognized the watermark they have left on my life. I painted, a lot (usually the graveyard shift), saw family, spent time at the lake, kayaked, and was delighted to fall off the face of the earth for a couple of weeks, because there was little internet or cell phone reception. This made for plenty of time to hear my heartbeat and make new friends! The mural's theme was to be a cafe and a pathway based on the verse "your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path." So, here is a progression of the mural to share with you...

beautiful stories

2006-05-28T12:20:00.000-07:00

Life sometimes flows
with the intensity
of the Nantahala

Everyone’s caught
retrieving feet
when cold outweighs comfort

Everyone’s caught
staring into the river
carrying parts of it home

collecting beautiful stories
like river rocks
from a cold streambed

storing them away
in coffee table baskets
for convenient turning in palms

recalling often
how we gathered them
why we loved the ones we did

They speak aloud
when we are found hiding
where rivers are not cold

---

ba..ba..balance

2006-05-23T19:07:00.000-07:00

Right now I'm looking out the living room windows at the shaky leaves. I love the shaky leaf trees, they are so peaceful. I think I hold a better conversation with them than just about anyone these days. These past five months have made me weary and quiet. I feel like I've been in the dramatic pause of life, waiting and listening. Waiting, as doors continue closing, and listening, to hear whatever I'm supposed to hear while I'm waiting. So I often find myself with nothing to say. I think I've become boring, actually! Sorry to all of you who have had to endure me when I get this way!! I wish I could tell you something funny, or the most interesting thing I read recently, or just anything to give you the impression that I'm a well-rounded fun individual, but the truth is that I'm not very well-rounded at the moment, and I've been too distracted to either notice or remember anything funny or intelligent. Do you ever get sick of yourself and who you've been, or of sitting always with your own thoughts? Right now I want anything except my own thoughts, because they are more flighty than the capricous winds of evening. I just want to move towards something steadfast, something more than solely a life of morals and integrity. I can live a life of principle and still feel so empty and somehow gross. That's why it's good to have conversations with the trees, because they sing a little song that's kind of about balance, and it goes... "He has shown you, O man, what is good and what the Lord requires of you. To act justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God." And they remind me that God desires fellowship, and He might fellowship tonight vicariously through the trees.

"Life is all about balance." This has been a theme of mine. Balance of work and play. Balance of exercise and eating. Balance of studying the bible and secular books. Balance of being alone and being with people. Balance between the introspective and lighthearted. balance, balance. But thank you Carrie Graham for contrary ideas that cause me to rethink. A balanced life is a healthy life, for sure, but does it validate godliness? I think John the Baptist to be one of the most unbalanced people in the bible. But his unbalanced lifestyle might have been critical to the fulfillment of his life's purpose. Anyway, I'm not trying to make excuses for my lack of personality! Hah! I know balance is a healthy thing, and I know I need to lighten up and diversify my life more. But I'm also done equating balance with godliness. Life isn't all about balance. Life comes in seasons. There is a time for everything, for being fun or not so fun, talking, silence, moving forward, holding back. So He's making everything beautiful in its time (and in the end it will probably all balance out!).

But dear Lord, let me not stay this way much longer, for fear that my phone will stop ringing because everyone figured out that I silence calls! =)

Respect for the Morning

2006-05-05T09:47:00.000-07:00

Remembering to Remember
(primarily motivated by the beautifully reflective heart of an old pen friend whose physical presence I've never actually had the pleasure of experiencing, and then by Frederick Buechner, an author whose words urge me to listen more closely for the voice of God speaking through my life story)

"Look in thy heart and write" - C.S. Lewis.

A good number of years ago on a chilly morning in the Smoky Mountains I woke to see the first veins of color entering the sky. My family sat quietly on front porch rocking chairs looking at those orange silhouetted mountains, and then Dad said, "I don't think I could ever get tired of of studying each curve of these mountains," with his hand floating through the air as if tracing the mountain edges.

I miss mornings. Not that I haven't been awake for them, but I haven't listened to them lately as I once did. I miss the early college years of living at the old blue house, a time when I had a steadfast respect for the morning and the freshness and serenity it offers. Each morning is a gift that can be received or denied, and I couldn't stand the thought of missing out, so in the early mornings when the world slept and the birds had just begun singing outside my bedroom window, my eyes opened with excitement for the new day. Smiling, I slid from beneath the covers and eased into the kitchen. At that time of day walking is more of a glide than a step, so as not to confuse the stillness or stomp too loudly and wake busyness before its time. While the water began churning inside my red tea kettle, I shuffled through tea boxes and chose a mug from the shelf. For a few minutes before drinking, I blew puffs of air into apple cinnamon tea, letting the steam travel across my face. Then I sat down on the living room floor where formalities weren't an option, and I read the words I loved. An interesting thing happens when words are loved— they become incarnate in the reader. The words took on such a life that they started reading me more than I read them, and sometimes they read out loud.

Then sometimes nothing was read, because the morning had enough to say.

new hobby

2006-02-21T08:11:00.000-08:00

last year these people (i have no idea who they were) called me and said, "Hey! we want to give you free magazines!"... i'm not one to be deceived by telemarketers, so i thought, yeah right, "no thanks."
but they insisted, "no, really, we're trying to get more publicity to some magazines, so we want to send some to you for a year, for free."
i warned them, "if you send me magazines, you can't bill me ever, never, ever, never" and they agreed. so each month i get a new collection of random magazines like ESPN, Golf, Car & Driver, Flying, Fortune, Gourmet, Elle, Parents, Family Circle, Woman's Day, and some others I can't remember. Random, huh? For months they stacked up on my counter, then I started giving them away as door prizes for the people who came over. But I've found a new way to make use of all these wasted magazines. It's a bit of fun as well...

actually it's better than paper dolls. he did not come looking like that.

this was the birthday card for my wonderful big brother, g dub, because today is his 25th birthday.

happy birthday dubbs... you're not just a man, you're the man. =)

stephen crane

2006-02-15T21:22:00.000-08:00

-------------------

Once I saw mountains angry,
And ranged in battle-front.
Against them stood a little man;
Aye, he was no bigger than my finger.
I laughed, and spoke to one near me,"Will he prevail?"
"Surely," replied this other;
"His grandfathers beat them many times."
Then did I see much virtue in grandfathers --
At least, for the little man
Who stood against the mountains.

--------------------
Poem XXII in The Black Riders and Other Lines by Stephen Crane

the smiles that changed my week

2006-02-08T18:31:00.000-08:00

My old roommate, Laura Hernandez, took these photos a couple of years ago in Ghana. She sent them to me last week for art purposes, but they turned out to be so much more. It was my last week to be living at my house in College Station, I was at the house alone, and man!, was I bitter towards life and the vagabond days I thought were upon me! One night I lethargically walked out to the garage to sketch for awhile, and I looked at these pictures. But instead of being able to sketch, I was stilled by the wealth of joy in these faces. A cloud of feeling settled in, turning that dirty garage into a place of sanctuary. It was beautiful.

The next day my dad and I talked a good deal about walking in joy and appreciating life's simple blessings. He said, "Faith! Quit analyzing the hell out of everything! Just enjoy life! Enjoy the birds!" But I'm an English major! I spent the past four years developing my analytical skills!! He's right, though, and made the good point that when I constantly turn everything over and over in examination, I make myself out to be a god. Make good judgments, but live with balance. Let God be God.

Right now these examinations are about future decisions and their possible outcomes. I could analyze it all to an unhealthy degree! But I find peace in this:
"Where can I go from Your Spirit? Where can I flee from Your presence?...
[Wherever I go]... You are there...
Your hand will guide me, Your right hand will hold me fast...
If I say, "Surely the darkness will hide me...
even the darkness will not be dark to You." (Ps. 139:7-10)

Beyond the context of these verses, I am currently listening to the way they speak to me. I get so scared that I will remove myself from His reach and approval, maybe by some unrecognized darkness, my own foolishness, bizarre thoughts, or decisions. But, neither His acceptance nor His holding on to me were ever dependent on me anyway, and that is so so freeing!!

Last night Laura Heine and I went camping with our dogs. We sat around the campfire telling stories, laughing, and making s'mores. Then we buried ourselves inside our sleeping bags and Mocha (her dog) ran laps around us in the tent all night long! Agh! But this morning I woke just as the sun was coming up, and as I lay there looking at the rich dawn my heart grew thankful... not for answered questions, but for simple wonderful moments. For three years Laura and I worked in ministry together, were in the same small groups, and were even one-on-one 'accountability partners'. But not until this past year (when we are no longer part of that ministry) do I feel as if we are really forming an authentic relationship, because we are learning the art of just being together, simply for the sake of being and no other spiritual objectives in mind. The cool thing is that as we "be" together, so many spiritual things are also happening beneath the surface. That's what life is all about, you know? Being with people. Being with God. It is so good to be alive!

I just need to watch the sunrise every day!

Braving the Brave

2006-01-31T08:51:00.000-08:00

"It's such a Brave New World for my little generation
I'm just afraid we might die from a case of low expectations
It's not so much we don't want to be happy,
It's just everyone's so scared of being sad."
-Martha, Brian Webb (www.brian-webb.com)
-------------------------------------------

If I leave, can I promise not to wander alone? Can I make again the vow I have always proven not to keep?

You’ve broken this rule every time before. How can we trust you now?

Honestly, I don’t know if you can. I don’t understand why I yearn to go, except the heart has reasons that reason is unaware of. And I am not alone. The night wind brings messages from my love. The moon whispers, “Come, let’s talk about life.” So I run, literally. I run to renew the lifeblood in my veins. I run alongside the wind and place myself at the moon’s feet as it tells stories of a world beyond my own.
And now I consider walking from what I have always known. This time not to run, there is no need for hiding. Not to disregard, that would be heresy. But I unrolled a map and found it talking out loud. It spoke beautiful words of poetry and told stories of worlds beyond my own.

If this is your dream, then following yours means swallowing mine.

Am I a fool to leave something so beautiful? Am I only a selfish individual? Should a bird’s wings be clipped, or is there no other way to train them? Dad will think of my music when he sees the Harvest Moon. Will he drop his head and sigh over what he believes could have been… if only I had also believed? But I wonder, do people choose to believe, or does belief choose them?

---

What the eyes are saying

2006-01-16T19:04:00.000-08:00

Pet Peeves: when people ask me what mine are, I have a hard time remembering. Of course I get annoyed by fingernails on the chalkboard, bad drivers or disrespectful people, but I don't really think of these as pet peeves because they apply to everyone. Pet peeves have to be more of an oddity in my opinion, and more unique to the individual. For example, clothes that don't match and socks worn inside out (neither of which are pet peeves of mine. I actually do both of those). Maybe it could be dusty fan blades or colors not arranged according to their color family. But, I think I've settled on my main current pet peeve (what a great thing to try to make up my mind about, huh? As if I'm choosing between Cookies 'n Cream or Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough ice cream!)

Sunglasses. Not when people wear them, but when people don't take them off for conversations. It's even worse when I can see my reflection... so I usually tell people, "I want to look at you when I talk to you, not me when I talk to you."

Okay, let me backtrack a moment... I don't want this to come across as downbeat. Lately I've realized what a cynical person I've been becoming, and that scares me. It's like becoming a stiff old lady. I don't want to be like that. I want to see the good in people, organizations, etc. Not that I am abandoning good discernment, but just not immediately assuming the bad. I want to clothe myself with the Lord Jesus Christ and consider people through His eyes, not my own. That being said...

I really like eyes.

Brown, blue, green, grey, hazel, whatever. The color is actually irrelevant. It's what the eyes are saying that particularly stands out. I am easily affected by the way people look at me. A conversation is so much more than what people vocally express. It is a good deal of what their eyes are communicating.

Respect. Affection. Shock. Disappointment. Brokenness. Forgiveness. Tenderness. Determination. Hope.

I first saw this painting about five years ago. It still moves me and fills me with passion. This is a painting of the Disciples Peter and John on the morning of the Resurrection, by Eugene Burnand (who I imagine must know God intimately to be able to capture such emotion in a painting). I love their eyes and expressions. The painting speaks of redemption, forgiveness, and incredible hope, because the disciples had just all failed Jesus in the most heart breaking of moments, yet Jesus did not give up on them. It is a reminder of God's awfully romantic design for redemption. It is a reminder that God can use broken people who fall over and over again into the same shameful struggles.

One of my heroes, Brennan Manning (who knows all about falling countless times into the same faults), has said in probably every one of his books "In love's service, only wounded soldiers serve." God has yet to despise a broken heart or a contrite spirit. Our increasing knowledge of Him is pointless and only becomes a fountain of pride if not coupled with a spirit of depravity. He looks on the broken servants with admiration. If we could gaze into His eyes, we would see that.
And I wonder, as we gaze into each other’s eyes, are we reminded of that? Are our eyes testaments of our patience, tenderness, forgiveness, and determination to fight for one another and for truth?

final paintings for class

2005-12-24T13:00:00.000-08:00

I once wore leaves from an autumn street.
They rose to encircle me as a shield.
They pressed against me, all around me as a place of sanctuary.
Here my lifeless spirit felt tenderness in the wind, and
I remembered...
There ARE places worth actively defending.

Walk with me quiet, walk with me slow
With watered down coffee and words of gold
I can feel the edges of these things
When I hear you speak to me, so walk with me

Walk with me empty, walk with me strong
The hush of our voices when the day seems so long
It is like a balm, it is like a jewel
It unravels all I thought I knew

Tell me the story where old is made new
The promise of ages and all things that are true
When the shadows fall and the wrecking ball
Swings and tears me through the heart

Will you lead me beside the still waters
Where the oil, it runs over, and my cup overflows
You restore my soul

(lyrics: Sandra McCracken)

That's right friends

2005-12-18T19:47:00.000-08:00

That's right friends, on Friday I got my certificate of freedom! Some may call it the finale of freedom... we'll see. My freshman year I thought I wanted to graduate Magna Cum Laude, but now I settled for graduating Hakuna Matata instead. The College of Architecture and the College of Liberal Arts held their graduation services on the same day and same time, so Amy and I rode together. To our delight we ended up sitting only about 6 people away from each other (closer than we were in our high school graduating class of 170 people!). I've decided graduations are mostly nothing but a lot of fluffy business and a huge game of where's Waldo. I walked into Reed Arena, and I swear, everyone was staring straight at me (or so it seemed), and they waved. They waved big. And hollered and yipped like good Texans. And everyone around me was on their cell phone the whole time saying things like "Dad, don't you see me? I'm waving at you! I have on a black hat!"

The coolest part was that Barbara Bush was our guest speaker and we had 2nd row seats! That lady is sassified! She said, "You've been in the Garden of Eden for 4 years, but now you've eaten from the tree of knowledge and it's time to get out!"

After the ceremony I forgot my diploma in the bathroom and was on the opposite side of Reed Arena, across a sea of nearly ten thousand people before I even noticed. And I didn’t notice until Amy said "Faith!! Where is your diploma!?" to which I responded with a good "SHIT!!" as she grabbed my hand and we took off running, making it as dramatic of a situation as possible. Anyway, it was a fun day. Amy and I put up the Christmas tree (or should I say forest— we have 3 Christmas trees). Some good friends came over after graduation.

Thank you, Matt Graham and Carrie Graham, for coming over to celebrate with me, Matt for wearing my favorite glasses, Carrie for wearing those sweet pipe cleaners in your hair! Since y'all are an item and happen to have the same last name and since Carrie went to Belmont (and knows the retired infatuation I have with Belmont) and since Matt likes to listen to some good old school Steven Curtis Chapman... did you know that SCC and his wife met at Belmont because they both had the same last name and shared a campus mailbox? Isn't that sweet? I thought so.

Josef Albers

2005-12-14T21:42:00.000-08:00

Earlier I was about to publish a completely different post. It was long. It had deep thoughts. It was mostly all about me. All are typical characteristics of my writing after a season is completed (in this case- my last semester!). But just as I was getting ready to put it here on my blog I thought, Now, everybody doesn't need to read this! I'm glad I wrote the stuff down. It's good to reflect upon the goods and bads and in-betweens, but that doesn't mean I need to share it with everyone ALL the time! So, right now I'm practicing the discipline of the secret! =) And I'm recognizing that it is good to get outside of ourselves. The same man a few months back in Colorado who said to me, "I believe the Lord has great things in store for you" said right after that, "I'm at my best when I am outside of myself." And I have come to understand this to mean, If I desire to witness the great things God is doing, I must be willing to get past myself.

In the Museum of Fine Arts in Houston there is a display of art by a German artist named Josef Albers who studied how colors seem to change when placed beside different colors (example, green looks different next to blue than it does next to red). Here are some examples from his Study for Homage to the Square

He had a quote next to his display, and it said

"When you really understand that each color is changed by a changed environment, you eventually find that you have learned about life as well as about color."

I'll let you take that quote as you will.

yee-haw

2005-12-07T23:14:00.000-08:00

I found this mosquito on my bathroom floor. He is now dead, but I imagine his final words were "yeeeeeee-hawwwwwww!"

Now this little fellow I rescued from the middle of the road. Fortunately for him I was stopped at a red light and able to quickly open my door and bring him into safety. That would be safety from the huge ranting truck tires of some badass Texas cowboy. So I brought the little one home and set him beside the big fellow. The big fellow was a gift from my aunt who swiftly moved to Alaska this past summer. She went to be near her two children who ran from this place like Texas outlaws (It's not like I haven't wanted to do the same thing before).

Finally, this picture is me and one of the guys from Percussion Studio, right before we did our version of "I Feel Love" by the Blue Man Group last Saturday night for PS's Christmas show. Do you see those Christmas lights on my dress? I definitely looked like a Christmas tree, pulling an extension cord along behind me on stage. It was a blast!

Ok, just one more. This is my niece Evelyn, nuff said.

A Drive through Navasota

2005-11-25T21:56:00.000-08:00

It's 68 degrees in Navasota this evening. I've been leisurely driving through through the downtown, listening to Sun Kil Moon and looking at Christmas lights (yes, already). The Christmas season has always been my favorite. I know "December's sex appeal" (as Cody Kimmel put it) is quite ridiculous, but I still love Christmas trees as well as all the lights, smells, cold weather and fireplaces! I admit- I even really like Christmas music. Maybe that's why I don't mind that this place is decorated so early or that Starbucks bypassed Thanksgiving's Pumpkin Spice Latte and brought out the Peppermint Latte a couple of weeks ago. Maybe Christmas is my favorite season only because of what an aesthetically pleasing time it is. Aesthetics get me, especially cities at night or small towns around Christmastime.
Small towns always seem to have something they want to say, so my eyes linger when I drive through. They're a few steps behind, but at the same time maybe a step ahead. The people all know one another (a little too well at times). Old men gather at the local station, and women drive to see who won the "Yard of the Month" award, then decide who should win next month. The stores close when the sun goes down, except for Dairy Queen, and every small town has a Dairy Queen. I think DQ's thrive off small southern towns these days. It's the only place still open here, and passing by, I saw my brother sitting inside playing chess with one of his high school friends (who coincidentally was my freshman prom date. I was that horrible date who abandoned him halfway through the night for other friends, and my disgrace plus his disappointment resulted in an awkward relationship thenceforth).

I view my old hometown gently tonight, for all of the memories it holds, the goods and bads. It's speaking now, urging me to view myself in the same graceful way- allowing all memories to be welcome, whether those of praise or regret, because they all are woven into the fabric of who I am, and in this holistic perspective of my life story God is always speaking.

I wish there was a coffeeshop to sit in tonight. If I lived here I would be inclined to open one. That is, if small towns supported such endeavors and I didn't have my own itching desire to move closer to a city with seasons and mountains. But, if I were to open a coffeeshop, it would be in one of the large downtown buildings. It would have good coffee of course, and rocking chairs outside, but also exhibitions of local art- from children to high school students, to the old folks. I'd set a baby grand in one corner (or maybe an upright, that's more affordable). The music teachers could hold their students' music recitals there instead of in a stiff sanctuary on Church St. It would be a small town movement! I would be more brave. We could begin book clubs and writing guilds. The old theatre alliance could light its stage again. The high school could begin a music program and a more decent art program. Maybe the community would be excited as they realized that good art awakens something deep within people. Art that is alive is evidence of people who are alive- who allow themselves to see, listen, and be emotionally moved. (ok--this is becoming a magical coffee shop!)

Madeleine L'Engle once said (to paraphrase), the way she feels about the arts and the way she feels about the Creator of the universe are inseparable. While this could be interpreted as sacreligious, I think that would be a misunderstanding. I think she is referring to the way she is emotionally affected by both. Arts move us, sometimes in ways beyond reason's capacity. The arts are no necessity to survival, yet we would not be the same without them. Perhaps it is their created purpose to connect with our inward and outward senses and reflect the way God desires to connect with us- to stir us, allowing us to feel and experience something greater than ourselves, and somewhere in the connection to change us, because we cannot help but be otherwise....

Goodnight Navasota. I'm glad we're friends tonight.

November Morning

2005-11-14T15:36:00.000-08:00

How fresh the garden must have been the morning Adam rose by the Maker's hands. Lifting his head to the sun, he breathed in freshness... He breathed in new life. Even more fresh the garden must have been the morning Jesus rose. Stepping into the sun, breathing out freshness... breathing out new life.

Morning broke today just as it did in the gardens long ago.

My heart has yielded to the one who makes all fresh, who makes seasons turn. Sometimes freshness comes as warmth. Then at times it burns like a November morning –cold wind on my face, air smelling of change, leaves falling. Falling...
like old hoarded comforts,
like cords on my soul,
like making room for April.

If you're needing to waste some time...

2005-11-01T14:34:00.000-08:00

I found a fun way to do that very thing! Type your name + "needs" into google.com and see all the fun search results you can come up with. Lots of them are surprisingly true. I got quite a bit of religious statements (which is nothing out of the ordinary when you have a name like Faith). Here's a few of my results:

-Faith needs a Polish name
-Faith needs a garden (yes, mine definitely died)
-Faith needs to ask questions (i already do. maybe too many!)
-Faith needs to go public (um... what?)
-Faith needs to be able to deal with life's unexpected events
-Faith needs room
-Faith needs someone concentrating on her
-Faith needs fire (yes i do! one of those outdoor fireplaces would be sweet!)
-Faith needs to be reminded (sad but true)
-Faith needs a life (excuse me?!)
-Faith needs exercising (what are you trying to say??)
-Faith needs strategies
-Faith needs adventurous courage
-Faith needs to have a postmodern theology
-Faith needs to be highly appreciated and admired
-Faith needs to be thrown to the side
-Faith needs an overhaul
-Faith needs to be in something bigger than an internal experience
-Faith needs to grow when nothing goes right
-Faith needs today
-Faith needs to stop (ok ok i'm stopping)

Five-O-Us and Dis Ole Bench

2005-10-29T17:23:00.000-07:00

The last time I went to the Appalachians I took a picture of these five men sitting outside a gas station in North Carolina. When I got home I showed the picture to my dad. One day shortly after that dad said he had a new CD for me to check out. If you know my dad you'll understand even more why this makes me laugh very hard! Be sure to read the song titles, otherwise it's just not the same!

Son in the Distance

2005-10-20T23:00:00.000-07:00

The words you spoke are reborn again in my mind
And in the dark of night I wrestle with dreams and the truth
The way you did not quiver sends chills down my spine
As you took only what you wanted and denied all you knew

Oh, how it burned my heart and filled my mind with thunder
As I watched your silhouette into the far corners fade
Many lonely days I have cried from the hunger
For my son in the distance whom I long to embrace

Years go by, but memories grow no older
They taste as ripe as if only yesterday
When you were a child and embraced me tender
With arms open wide and a smile on your face

Yet the sweet grew bitter as your face turned away
And cold as the winter were my lips from your cheek
I tried, oh how I tried, my hopes for you to display
But my son in the distance, by your strength you grew weak

Life is ever moving, work is ever being done
Yet I never tire in searching the edges of the sky
For the shape so desired, to whom I yearn to run
My son in the distance, and hold you to my side

Do those far countries please you, your soul to satisfy?
There's a seat next to me if you'd only come home
Come, join the banquet! Eat the bread, drink the wine
Let us break this great distance, with you no longer to roam

Top 10 reasons why I can't stop smiling

2005-10-06T22:51:00.000-07:00

-I ate cereal twice today

-My septic system works again so I no longer have to go to the bathroom at Exxon or take showers at the Rec Center.

-I saw D.O.'s smile and it was contagious

-Wednesday is over and won't be back for another six days

-Thursdays are for painting, and Fridays are just like Saturdays

-Tonight when I left my painting class it was a lovely 65 degrees

-On the way home I saw Christmas lights. Right after the Christmas lights I smelt a campfire

-Nickel and I are sitting on the backporch wearing sweaters

-She says the wind filling the trees sounds like a room full of shimmying petticoats

-I'm ending the day with chamomile tea. Quiet, comforting chamomile

Ezekiel 37

2005-10-01T21:23:00.000-07:00

Sunken.
Down to the valley floor,
lost, more than ever before,
Broken.

Scattered.
Bones lay splintered and dry,
long time unmoved and un-alive,
Finished.

Listen!
Descending from the North,
swelling through the boneyard floor
it's coming--

The Wind has returned
like a breath that's been blown
into the ruins of the boneyard floor,
and the rattles heard
from this valley's dry bones
say death won't last around here anymore!

Because we are meant-
to flourish, not wither
to thrive, not splinter
to live, not die
to receive the Wind that restores our lives
to rise up from our valley floor
and believe we are dead no more.
For to us new beginnings have come!
This is the promise of the One
who cried out "It is finished!!"

"The zeal of the Lord Almighty will accomplish this." Isaiah 37:32

Chuck Taylor (like the shoes)

2005-09-22T16:26:00.000-07:00

In a house a few blocks down from mine lives my favorite professor. He taught all of my creative writing classes here at A&M. Through reading poetry with him and working closely under him for a few semesters in the past, I have found him to be a person that seriously interests me.
He has a very old Winnebago parked behind his house, probably a remnant of his younger traveling days as a hippie. He is often out walking his large dog, but this past summer he launched a vegetable garden in his front yard, his long grey hair sticking from beneath a straw hat as he tilled rows of dirt.

Being an English major fits me well. I've wondered this semester why I decided to take a graduate class simply as an elective, but getting to have my favorite professor for one more time makes it worth the work. He even invited me to pick beets from his garden! (Who eats beets??)

The following is a letter he received from one of his old poet friends; I found his words intriguing and restructured them...

"Sorry,
my friend.
I don't want nothing
from this world

It can only give
pain and sorrow
I wish you luck...and love.

To those who seek the unknown:
I send them love,
and the Rivers.

Celebrate life
through the misery,and
pain and sorrow.

Send money...
or flowers.

Kiss a fat girl on a bus-
It would make her day."

new paintings for class

2005-09-15T11:38:00.000-07:00

so these are the latest paintings for my painting class. the assignment was to 1)paint objects that tell a story for me-- tea is definitely a story for me! and 2) to do a perspective painting in the Langford building on campus, which was not as interesting of a story, but definitely fun. i'm trying to learn to work more with lighting and shadows. the past two nights i've stayed up till the wee hours of the morning working on these because they're due tonight. but it was way more fun than school is supposed to be!!

oh, by the way, today is quite monumental because as i post these pictures, my roommate nickel and i are witnessing p-diddy teach martha stewart how to rap and dance to hip hop!
here we go! haha!! it just made my day!!

p diddy's advice-- "just be yourself"

Everyday Miracleworkers

2005-08-22T14:44:00.000-07:00

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
My Heritage...

My dad's father was a shrimper in his older years. Once my family went with him on his shrimp boat to catch shrimp, and I remember the large nets being drawn in, filled with shrimp as well as crabs, jellyfish, and once even a hammerhead shark! (I think there was a shark... unless my imagination took over and has been lying to me all these years). When Grandpa would come to our house he always came to the back door, carrying large grocery bags full of shrimp. One day when he came I remember him setting the bags on the ground, crouching down to my level, and placing me on his knee. I don't know what he said or what happened next, but I do remember feeling very loved by him in that moment. Grandpa got cancer when I was young and we went to visit him at his home in Victoria, Texas. I wore a striped outfit, and he called me his little jailbird. After he died, his funeral was held at the small church he attended. We sang the hymn "Victory in Jesus," which since that day has been one of my favorite hymns.

My heritage is beautiful to me. They are the stories I love to hear and remember often. I believe my family members were the primary tools God chose to use in drawing my heart to Him at a young age. My sister influenced me greatly. When I was little, she loved to play children's games of itsy-bitsy spider and dress-up, even though she was five years older and had long outgrown silly kid's games. I shared a bed with her for years, and in the winter with flannel pajamas on, we ran in circles on flannel sheets, causing our nightgowns to spark from the static electricity. She was my best friend-- the one I wanted to be just like, the one I wanted so badly to please. Through junior high school when I had found new interests such as popularity and boys she would stand nearby and listen as I talked on the phone to boyfriends. If the boy would say he loved me, she forbid that I echo it, saying to me, "Faith, don't you let him tell you he loves you! He doesn't even know what love is!" Of course now we laugh at how she, my self-appointed guardian, seemed somewhat harsh, but at the time her actions communicated to me that Jenny loved me dearly and dreamed big dreams for me. The result was that I began seeing myself through her eyes. I began to define my life by higher ideals and no longer wanted to settle for a small life. Jenny showed me hope and life that was as full as our overflowing pond on the days when school was cancelled because of too much rain.

This weekend Jenny, her husband Brad, and their daughter Evelyn came to visit. While talking with Jen, I asked her who the people were that influenced her to follow Jesus. She told me a story of Grandpa: Just before Grandpa died Jenny sat by his bedside. When he woke and saw her crying he said in a broken struggled voice, "Don't cry baby... Jesus is going to take care of you," and he gave her his favorite Bible that is covered with duct tape and full of worn pages. Somewhere during this time Jenny saw the fullness of life and wanted to walk in that fullness.

Community & Dreaming Unseen Things...

I've been thinking much the past few days about how we are able to perform miracles in other people's lives when we dream the unlikely or unseen things for them. Also, our words and actions have the wonderful ability to bring more rapid healing into people's lives. When others see that we hope great things for them, they learn to hope for themselves. When they see we love them, they learn to love themselves.

This summer I spent a few weeks in the Sangre de Cristo mountain range of Colorado working 8-9 hours a day in a camp kitchen and having the rest of the time to play in the mountains. I went to get away, but the alone time I had does not stand out as much as the people I encountered. At first I fought getting to know them, however, against my original intent some of them seemed to pry their way into my heart, and the beautiful ways they pursued me broke me as I stood face to face with my own struggle to open my heart up wide and not withhold my affections from others. Even in the times when my heart does allow people in, I often feel guilty for it. But I'm learning I am not meant to live with a secluded "me and God" mentality and should no longer feel guilty, as if the desire for people is displeasing to God. While God is my complete sufficiency and while nothing satisfies as He does, He also created people to exist together. It was Christ's prayer that His people would "be one."
Recently a friend of mine pointed out that when we have intimate relationships with others we understand more how to have intimacy with the Lord. As we learn to love one another, we understand more clearly how to love the Lord. Allowing godly friends to hold up my arms is allowing Christ to hold up my arms. We need openness and honesty. We need to be corrected in gentleness. We need ears that listen intently and hearts that consider wise responses. We need people who dream big dreams for us.

I remember one particular afternoon in Colorado when I was quite downcast within my heart. I sat on the porch of the dining hall where I worked, watching the rain fall hard around me, like tears I was unable to cry. At that time one of the men at camp walked to where I sat on the porch, speaking to me casually about fishing and his family. Then he said, "Faith, I meet people such as you and it excites me, because I believe the Lord has great things in store for you." He spoke with such gentleness and sincerity, and it was as if he sang a song of life over me right there.

Community is a beautiful thing, like holding hands. I think it's in the intimate fellowship among people, more than anywhere else, where Jesus is revealed. But it's hard to live as the hands and feet of Christ to others, and it is also hard to let others be the hands and feet to me. I don't often think of myself as one of the least. In fact, I tend to convince myself that I'm just fine on my own. But I've forsaken the Word of God before, as well as fellowship with His people, and I've never been more deceived or miserable.
I am given hope by the people who dream big dreams for my life. I hope I can do the same for others as well.

Zealous Days

2005-05-27T08:36:00.000-07:00

On an east Texas highway
where pine trees grow
the smell always taps me on the arm
I found my heart that first day
when I lost myself below
those pine branch canopies of charm

My momma once told me
my heart is worth the fight
and the men who agree make the chase
but I don’t know if I believed
'til the phone rang last night
and I hoped I wasn’t only a game

I miss Stacey this morning
the way her spirit moves me
I think about when she lived here with me
When we dressed like gypsies
and went out for coffee
before the river called her off to Tennessee

This small life I’ve worn
doesn’t fit anymore
I never would have settled for it then
when Stacey’s songs were born
for me every morning
in our room where zealous days began

Sierra of Adventures

2005-05-11T11:42:00.000-07:00

Sierra turns to the folded tapestry
She lifts it from a vintage suitcase
Breathing in deep of it, she
gathers it up like a kitten
It nestles around her neck

Steadily she advances
from a broken-down Winnebago
swaying
from one foot to the other
on tiptoes she twirls

The tapestry falls open before her
it entwines her
like vines on a trellis
Before passing cars
she creates her setting:

Hanging the tapestry as a frame behind her
bending her slender body
she begins to dance--
gracefully innocent
slyly enchanting

On a Central Texas Highway
her long hair flows
like the ripples of Canyon Lake
where she pauses
to skip flat pebbles

Her bare feet caress the ground
Her gypsy skirt
departs from her body
but quickly returns to embrace her
The beads of her neck clap their hands

Cars of men ease to her side
their affections
collected like wildflowers
from the roadside
They come as knights

They align themselves
to rescue a princess
to defeat the dragon
blowing steam from its cave
under the Winnebago’s hood

But when the dragon is slain
Sierra waves goodby
She lowers the tapestry
her flag of freedom
and drives away

Leaving behind
a fresh bouquet of wildflowers
an assembly of valiant knights
She heads west down Interstate 20
following the map to Adventure

--

Jesse’s eyes know Sierra
She thought
they were traveling companions
together searching for Adventure
but he was already there

He forces his eyes
through the window
to the countryside
but they always revert
transfixed

Sierra is the scenery
waking him
in the night
When he sees her lying there
he forgets his sleep

At every breakdown
he too notices
her silhouette
gliding smoothly
across the tapestry

It’s wonder makes him
want to leap
from the Winnebago
to remove her
from the view of other men

Jesse stems
from the tribe of Levi
the tribe of the priests
His father:
a praying Rabbi

Daily pleading to Adonai
for Jesse’s return
to fix his eyes upon
this God, who is
Jealous for His recognition

But no prayer is answered
because Jesse has found
a new religion:
She’s traveling west and
will raise the desert to life

By the time they reach
the Sonora Desert
he is
completely
absorbed by Sierra’s being

At sunset they pause
to let the engine cool
and Sierra follows the sun
as it entices her
into the desert

And Jesse follows Sierra
as she wanders
noticing how
the sun forms
a glow around her

Still, Sierra walks on
letting Jesse remain
always a step behind
because
she is Sierra

She wants to be swept away by Adventure
not be the adventure

--

Once she heard
that in Costa Rica
when the sun leans west
the foothills burn
and the dusk’s heart breaks

Because promises eluded
the fatherless ones
with un-held hands
for one more day
They lingered unknown

So she goes to them
to feel their fires
and jump inside bad dreams
She sings the songs that remain
unsung by others

It is as if
her touch is healing
as if the sun will not set
and flights of angels
ride the wind

The children find
life in her smile
and home in her arms
They meet Adventure
while she is theirs

They follow after
as she dances along
careful to step
in the earthen marks
her feet leave behind

They draw in
as close as they can
fighting over
who holds her hand
and who sits at her side

They now surround her
placing her in the center
They reach
for her hands
for the edges of her dress

She pats their cheeks
then kisses
their fiery skies goodbye
and even the forest
feels empty when she is gone

She wants to be wrapped up by Adventure
not be the adventure

--

So Sierra heads north
up to Alaska
where her brother
under layers of clothes
pleads for her warm presence

For months he lived
during fishing season
out on a boat
with callusing hands
and soggy boots

At nights
when on his bunk
only the waves of the sea
rocking him to sleep
provided comfort

He has lain to rest
beside many girls
who latch to his arms
when he wobbles ashore
to fishermen’s pubs

but on the mornings after
when he wakes
these girls are no more
than last night’s waves
helping him to sleep

Out on the sea
there rests
the weight of clouds
the heavy sky
his failed attempts

and in the storm
he sees the light:
he longs for steady ground
His life has no center
But Sierra is on her way

--

She was Sarah
named by her mother
She was
her mother’s princess
her joy and her world

Sarah’s face-
a resemblance of
her father, who was
the only love
her mother had known

He held Sarah
as her hands
reached up to his face
He heard her first words
“Da-da-daddy”

But he waved goodbye
before her arms could stretch
high enough to hold his hand
his love no stronger
than his urge to leave

---

Her mother sits alone
She calls to Sierra
“Please come home
what is it you seek?
Are you not at home with me?”

---

She was Sarah
named by her mother
for Sarah means “princess”
And this is how she was known
at every stop along her way

So Sarah became Sierra
unresolved and alone
Like a mountain range
ascending above
the touch of all

Because she wants to lose herself in Adventure
not be the adventure

Dad’s eyes sweat because big boys don’t cry.

2005-04-26T00:22:00.000-07:00

Dad plays peek-a-boo with his three month old granddaughter. When her mother drives her home, he follows their car to the edge of the driveway, watching as they fade into the distance. Then he lingers for a while, picking up trash from the ditch. When he returns to the house he sniffles. He mentions something about ragweed and says his allergies must have kicked in.

Dad chases sleep away. In fact, he separates sleep and night like the waves of the Red Sea. When it is barely morning the house rattles as he grinds Hazelnut coffee beans. Then, with his coffee thermos in hand, he walks outside and takes his seat among the shaky leaf trees.

Dad imitates the shaky leaf trees. He knows them well, because in these early mornings he watches them move with the Northerns rolling down from the cobalt sky. Just like the trees in the wind, so does his heart bend. Because, his memories are his blessings that increase with each new day, and considering them makes him soft inside.

Hideout Hill

2005-04-17T00:55:00.000-07:00

Step out of this town’s boundary lines. Let’s runaway to Hideout Hill where every city light rests below us and glows like the ends of your cigarettes. On Hideout Hill your cigarettes crackle like a fading campfire.
Let’s live tonight as the natives— grateful for what many call simple things. But these are not our simple things, they are our essentials.

Listen…
Sister Moon speaks. She says people are not as big as they often think.
Feel…
Brother Wind stirs. He drives away our troubled atmospheres.
See…
Mother Earth smiles. Her beauty is acknowledged on Hideout Hill.

Place of Sanctuary

2005-04-06T01:02:00.000-07:00

The Scottish, The States, and The Roman Empire

2005-03-30T00:09:00.000-08:00

I am back from Scotland! But I wasn't able to pick up the accent. They tried to teach me, but I didn't sound believable on anything I said except "aboat", such as 'cars turn cirlces around the "round-aboat"'.

I stayed with 3 girls that attend the University of St. Andrews. St. Andrews is the town where I spent most of my time, and it is on the North-eastern coast of Scotland. It was awesome to stay with people who are Scottish and Irish and actually get to meet their friends and their culture. I enjoyed it. They walk everywhere in their town. They are not far from mountains, and they have a beach where they live. The food was good (I usually always think the food is good). However, I did get a plate of food one time that I could not eat more than one bite of everything on my plate. That's never happened before! Surprisingly, I encountered a lot of deep-fried food. Many of these seemed awfully odd to fry, as if someone said, "hey, I wonder what this would turn out like if we fried it!" For example: they fry candy bars. Yep, they'll take a Mars bar or a Snickers, batter it up, and dunk it in the frier. It was more like a heart attack than a good idea.

One day we took a bus to see the William Wallace monument. It was a rainy cold day, and we probably walked about 10 miles (I'm not complaining, just illustrating). We saw some castles and the actual monument. Near the monument was a statue of Mel Gibson as William Wallace. He held a shield that said 'Braveheart', and for some reason I found this statue quite humorous and difficult to take serious.

I spent a good deal of time by myself in the cafe's of St. Andrews, just reading. But I also took time to wander off into the hills outside of town and through remains of monasteries that were burned during the Crusades. Many parts of St. Andrews are more than 1,000 years old, which is weird to think when I realize my country is only around 250 years old.

Our booming country has been going strong since 1776.
I can't help but wonder if someday people will look back on us like we look back on the Roman Empire, even though we haven't even lasted half as long as the Romans did. I bet those Romans thought they were the greatest civilization ever. I bet they never thought they would come to an end.

Dusty Dreams

2005-03-08T03:17:00.000-08:00

Tonight I'm laying on my bed, staring at the ceiling fan. It has clumps of dust on every blade, and I've never noticed it there until tonight. It actually disgusts me. The neat-freak side of me wants to clean the dust off right now, but my more relaxed side urges me to quit looking at the fan and quit thinking of how I could swallow dust in my sleep if it were to fall.

It is 2:40am. I am having one of my random nights of insomnia. Maybe my body has begun preparing for a time change since in two days I will be flying to Scotland. I will be there until March 21, and I'm hoping to purchase an accent while I'm gone.
Trips during the school semesters are the best (as opposed to summer vacations), because I tend to have more of a need for retreating. At least right now I've got plenty I'm ready to take a break from, mainly this place as well as who I am in this place. Time away to fiddle with my perspectives. I know my perspectives need tweaking when I see more of what frustrates me about my surroundings as opposed to the blessings. And when discomfort prevails so much that I cannot sleep at night. These are issues that need to be dug into, to find what their roots are made of.
For instance, almost all of my best guy friends have recently gotten girlfriends. This includes my brother living on the other side of the world, who has never had a girlfriend until now. It is weird getting emails from him that give all of the details and ask the family to pray for them. I really like the new girlfriends. And, I know I don't want to date these guys (obviously not my brother), so I've been searching for the roots of why this makes me feel so weird, and I've realized my issue: I want to be the guy's favorite gal. Shallow, I know. How terribly insecure of me. I need to get over the issue of my favorite guys having different favorite gals... or maybe just post an ad in the classifieds: "Looking for single male who will forever remain single and consider me the coolest girl he has ever known"

Yeah. It's time to vacate.

My Coffee Mug

2005-03-01T21:41:00.000-08:00

For Christmas this past year my mother gave me a coffee mug. Literally the daddy of all mugs, it's like five in one. I placed it in my cabinet next to the rest, most of which are stolen from my parents. Not that this is completely my fault... whenever I go home to visit, they insist on sending back with me whatever they can talk me into taking (and anything else they can sneak into my truck without me seeing). Most often this is food, like leftovers. Recently Mom tries to send back cans of green beans, but she hasn't been successful. However, Dad always offers me a cup of hazelnut coffee from his thermos, which I gladly accept. He himself sends one of their coffee mugs with me. Only I have not gotten around to returning the mugs, and so my collection builds.
In the mornings I open up the cabinet and look over every mug. Which one will be my sidekick this day? Well, it depends on my mood: inspired, light-hearted, loved, un-loved, pensive, blah, ... and the sidekick I choose is one that best matches my mood. This morning I chose the mug my mother gave me. It is an "I want to play outside" mug, covered in pine trees. When I got home from class, this mug was still almost full of coffee (because, remember, it is the daddy of all mugs. If my brother were here, he would call it "bigaz"). I put it in the microwave. When I took it out, the mug was so hot it burned my lips, but the coffee was like sweater weather. So, just call me "Hot Lips" like that boy did when I was in first grade. What kind of endearing term is that, anyway?

There are some things I just don't understand.

And so it goes.
I've come to represent the girls, because for all the many online journals I read, only one belongs to a girl. Therefore, because I would seem the feminist when compared to my neighboring female conservatives, I'll just admit that I enjoy female representation (as well as Mona Lisa Smile for similar reasons). If nothing else, I'm sure to get a high five from Justin Hancock for it. He's the true rebel. I'm just writing too much information about my coffee mugs.
And, honesty is one of the greatest tools in breaking ground for freedom.